Thought That Counts
by Neva
Summary: The story of a girl and her muse. Some humor (I hope) and even a tiny bit of angst. Still in progress.
1. The First Big Mistake

musefic1

A/N: There are a lot of muse fics out there all of a sudden, and I have no problem with this. I am a writer. I have a muse. And if he finds out I'm writing this, he will kill me, but I'll take my chances.  
  
Disclaimer: Unlike Xavier, I will willingly admit that I do not own the X-men. Any authors that I mention belong to themselves.  
  
Dedication: For Metroprincess, whom I envy for being able to make the muse experience a laughable one.  
  
Chapter 1: The First Big Mistake  
  
I was afraid that nobody was going to answer the phone, or that it had been a hoax. I mean, I'd heard that my fellow fanfiction writers had muses, but I never figured that there was an agency that provided such things. I had just about decided that it was a bad joke when somtone snatched up the phone. Inspiration, Inc. Clancy speaking. Sorry about the wait.  
  
I said. I'm looking for a muse.  
  
Aren't we all? Clancy cracked. You write fan fiction?  
  
I admitted. Two years ago, I hadn't even believed that there was such a thing. I'd always had this crazy idea that it was illegal to use other people's ideas, and weird besides. I used to wince every time I brought a new bit of someone else's world into my story -- or I would disguise the characters until nobody would even guess that they weren't mine.  
  
What name do you write under? he asked, and I told him. he repeated. I know that name. Didn't you have these big dreams to write controversial Harry Potter fan fiction?  
  
Once. But everyone's trying to be controversial these days. There are so many Harry Potter stories that you have to write about Harry sleeping with Mr. Malfoy just to get noticed.  
  
Clancy laughed. I think you might be right about that. Smart of you for backing out. So what is it now?  
  
I said.  
  
He made a kind of noise. And you want one of them to be your muse. Give you ideas for stories, help you figure out how to write them, things like that?  
  
  
  
Have anyone in particular in mind?  
  
I said immediately. She'd always been my favorite.  
  
She doesn't do muse work.  
  
I thought for a minute. How about Wolverine?  
  
Clancy said regretfully. He's taken by someone named ice princess deluxe. All in lower case. She's pretty good.  
  
I said, disappointed.  
  
Besides, he said that too many female writers required something besides inspiration from him.  
  
I could feel myself blushing. Apparently, I wasn't alone. Is there anyone else?  
  
Lemme check my files. There were some assorted rummaging noises in the background, then Clancy announced, Okay. Got one. He knows everything there is to know about the X-men, and he has infinite patience. Can you be here tomorrow?  
  
He sounds perfect, I said truthfully. And yes, I can.  
  



	2. An Open Mind

musefic1

A/N: Warning: This story will contain some in-jokes for the people who have actually read my fanfics. Other people can read it and understand it, too, though.  
  
Chapter 2: An Open Mind  
  
What do you wear to meet your muse, especially when you don't know who he is? As I discarded one outfit, then the other, I went over the possibilities in my mind. _I know it's not Logan. Is it Cyclops? I hope not. Is it Bobby? Gambit? Do I know the names of all the X-men? No, of course not._  
  
I kicked myself inwardly for not asking Clancy what I was getting myself into, but it was too late to call. In fact, I realized when I looked at the clock that if I didn't get over there fast, I'd be late. It didn't register that I was still wearing same the faded jeans and T-shirt that I'd put on that morning.  
  
When I got to the Inspiration, Inc. building, I was greeted by a very hostile-looking secretary who demanded to know who I was. When I told her, she raised her eyebrows. It's about time. They were about to leave without you. She rolled her eyes at the guy next to her. Writers. No sense of reality.  
  
I said, offended.  
  
Marla, that was un-called for! snapped the guy, in a voice that clearly indicated how cool he thought it was to be able to say that. He was skinny and bespectacled, with very bleached hair. I'm Clancy, he said to me. He's waiting in the other room.  
  
I asked.  
  
Clancy blinked. Your muse, who else?  
  
No, I mean, who _is_ he?  
  
Oh, that. Clancy smiled mysteriously. You'll see. He led me through a side door.  
  
The muse in question was sitting patiently in his wheelchair in the other room. He actually smiled when he saw us. You must be Neva.  
  
I'm not one of those people who is often rendered speechless, but when I am, the causes range from being told I'm a witch from another dimension, to wondering why something hadn't occurred to me before. Professor Xavier? You're my muse?  
  
You were expecting maybe... Clancy trailed off, frowning. Who _were_ you expecting?  
  
Not him, that's for sure. It wasn't that I didn't like Xavier. What kind of X-men fan would I be then? But wasn't he too busy saving the world to do this?  
  
I have enough time to help an author in need, Xavier assured me.  
  
I glared at him. I hope this mind-reading thing won't become a regular occurrance.  
  
Now would be a good time to explain the rules, Clancy piped up. Professor, your job is to provide Neva with ideas and moral support for her stories, and to advise her not to throw herself out the window if things get to be too much. And, like she said, reading her mind is not encouraged. Will that be a problem?  
  
Of course not.  
  
It had better not be, I warned.  
  
Clancy turned to me. Your job is to give him a chance, despite everything. Got it?  
  
It's all good, I said, wondering distantly if Clancy knew that there really was an or was just trying to sound impressive. I hoped it was the former.  
  
Yes, things could be worse. After all, what I'd been told was true: he did know everything about the X-men (obviously), he was very good at talking people into things, and since I was not attracted to him in the least (Goddess, I hoped not), there were no messy problems there.   
  
Yet as I continued to glare at Xavier, and he continued to glare back, I wondered if I hadn't just made the second big mistake of my promising new career.   
  



	3. Job Description

musefic3

Disclaimer: Mindy is an actual person, even though I'm not using her real name. The Waffler and Ballerinaman were bit characters from _Mystery Men,_ the best movie in the universe.  
  
Chapter 3: Job Description  
  
My friend Mindy and I were in the habit of writing fan fiction together. We'd been doing so for the past couple of years, and we'd just discovered the joy and wonder of X-men. In the story we were working on now, three characters from our own twisted imaginations showed up at Xavier's school and wreaked a considerable amount of havoc.  
  
Neva.  
  
I shrieked like a fire alarm and whirled around in my seat. I was alone, of course. Was I hearing things? Oh, right.  
  
I'm sorry if I frightened you, Xavier went on.  
  
It's okay. I paused. Can you hear me?  
  
Loud and clear. Are you writing?  
  
Yep. It's my first X-men story. Well, mine and Mindy's, anyway. New characters with interesting powers, that sort of thing.  
  
I don't know if you've realized this, child, but that's been done. Several times over. Writers love to create characters based on themselves and insert them into our universe.  
  
This was true, actually. They did a lot of it in the Harry Potter fandom, too. It was true that Jade was sort of based on me, and Iris was sort of based on Mindy. Look, I'm new at this, okay?  
  
That's why I'm here: to enlighten you. Yes, the new-girl-at-the-school approach has been done several times. But it seems like you've added a whole host of original characters. Who are the Waffler and Ballerinaman?  
  
Well, they're not exactly original, I admitted. They're from another movie. I just made up that their real names are Gerald and Oswald.  
  
And I assume that the two of them are going to befriend Jade and Iris?  
  
They were.  
  
Xavier considered this. It needs something else. Perhaps they could meet another student who shows them the proverbial ropes.  
  
Not bad. I decided that she should be called Nym, and be in charge of giving people suitable codenames.  
  
Usually, I'm the one who does that, Xavier complained.  
  
Well, if they don't like your ideas, they come to her. Got it?  
  
Fair enough. The story is still lacking, though.  
  
I thought about that. Well, Mindy and I have this long tradition of making the good guys the villains.  
  
Scott, he suggested immediately.  
  
Cyclops as the villain? I don't know about that. He's kind of an idiot.  
  
Trust me.  
  
So I did. And now I think that was my third big mistake. But I didn't know it then, because Cyclops worked as the villain. He was just doofy enough to satisfy Mindy's need for not to mention driven by the whole fearless-leader complex. The more I wrote, the more the latter of those two seemed like he was just working for a higher power. And even an idiot like me could see what that higher power was.  
  
Unfortunately, the power in question was also my muse, and would therefore know everything I was writing. So I let it go. For the time being.  
  
**  
I like it, Mindy said. It kicks ass, actually.  
  
I said.  
  
I never liked Scott anyway, she reminded me, but I can't believe you decided to make him evil.  
  
I delivered the mysterious smile I'd been practicing. Well, I had help.


	4. In the Spotlight

musefic4

Chapter 4: In the Spotlight  
  
Not long afterward, I posted my first X-men fic. It was actually more of a rant, in the voice of an ambivalent anti-mutant enthusiast. I typed it up during study hall, looking in both directions every now and then because I didn't want anyone to know what I was writing. At this point, my fascination with those lovable mutants was still a complete secret from everyone but Mindy. It was kind of cool, having a secret obsession.  
  
It also made me feel sort of like a mutant myself.  
  
At any rate, I was greeted when I arrived home by the best present an author can receive. I must have been a little too enthusiastic in my reaction.  
  
What's all this noise about?  
  
With my mother and sister in the vicinity, it was lucky I didn't scream again. I got some reviews, I explained, moving discreetly out of the room so they wouldn't notice the intensely weird expression that developed on my face whenever I conversed with my muse.  
  
Reviews?  
  
Sigh. When I post my stories, I explained, there's a space at the bottom where people can tell me what they thought of it.  
  
And what did these people say? Xavier asked.  
  
Something like, That shows a nice window in a world of oxymorons. I have no idea what that means. The other one said that I should write from the perspective of some other FOH members, too. I grinned, even though he couldn't see me.  
  
This one was quite good on its own. Very convincing.  
  
Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you, corny as that may sound.  
  
There was laughter in my head. It doesn't sound corny at all, child.  
  
I grimaced. Something I've been meaning to talk to you about -- don't call me child. My name is Neva.  
  
Fair enough. What's your next plan of action?  
  
I'm not sure, I admitted. I had forgotten how good it felt to get feedback for my stories, and I wasn't sure there was any turning back now.  
  
Don't always write for your reviews... Neva. Your sister was right about that, at least.   
  
I sat up immediately. How had he known that? Did he have any right to be snooping around in my mind? Why was I asking myself stupid questions?  
  
It won't happen again.  
  
That was the first lie Xavier told me. Needless to say, it wasn't the last.  
  
**  
  
That story never got any more than three reviews, and I have yet to follow that one reader's suggestion. But it was the first recognition I had ever gotten for being obsessed, and there was no reason for him to know that the reason Delia's rant had sounded so convincing was that I was really beginning to believe everything she was saying. You know, about mutants being hypocrites and hiding while they claimed to want to be respected. And that whole bit that ran, brainwashed by that meddlesome Xavier and his disciples... I knew that in that context could mean a whole lot of different things, including, of course, what Xavier was all too capable of doing.  
  
A stupid idea. A silly one. But that one little incident had reminded me of something I was doing my best to forget: while he was in my mind, he was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. True, he was bound by the agreement we'd made with the agency, and by his own moral code (Only for the greater good.) However, I fell asleep that night thinking, But what if... 


	5. Another Brilliant Idea

musefic5

Disclaimer: The book I refer to -- and quote from, see the passage in italics -- actually exists. It's called Generation X: Crossroads by J. Steven York. It gave me some great insight into the mutant universe, as well as inspiration for one of the best X-men stories I've ever written.  
  
Chapter 5: Another Brilliant Idea  
  
The library at my school had been a safe haven for me for the past year and a half: not was it the place in which I now worked on my stories, but it had a generous selection of reading material -- everything from classics to Stephen King to novelizations of comic books.  
  
Well, actually, it only had one of these, but I was drawn to it like a moth to flame. I curled up against the shelf (I probably looked weird, but I was used to that) and began flipping through it.  
  
Xavier was not in it (even though they mentioned him a great deal, always favorably), nor were most of the more famous characters I'd met in the movie, etc. I was fascinated as the main the main characters (mutants full of teen angst to which I, frightening as this may sound, could relate) encountered an anti-mutant radio speaker during the course of their travels. And even more disconcertingly, I could relate to what he was saying as surely as I could relate to Delia's opinions... especially when he demanded to know why telepaths should be allowed to invade people's thoughts. Damn straight.  
  
Why the sudden change of heart?  
  
I chomped down on my lip -- hard -- to keep from making any noise. I'm in school now! No fair!  
  
What are you reading?  
  
See for yourself. I'm looking for ideas.  
  
I see.  
  
I skimmed ahead to a scene where our heroes were stopped by a police officer who turned out to be a mutant sympathizer. The question posed to him, of course, was whether he was a himself. Now I was really intrigued. I read on.  
  
_Timmons laughed. Not me, but my favorite cousin is. When she turned thirteen she developed telekinesis. After the exorcist didn't work, they almost put her in an institution. That's when the Professor contacted us. He was able to help her, and I was a convert for life._  
  
You know, not all of them are, Xavier remarked.  
  
Not all of who are what?  
  
Converts. Not all people who have ties to mutants accept the situation right away. Even if they're not prejudiced, they shrink away from anything out of the ordinary.  
  
I thought about this. You mean they're not anti-mutant in general, but they freak out whenever it hits close to home?  
  
Exactly.  
  
Or maybe they're okay with the fact that whoever-it-is is a mutant, but they don't want that person disappearing to some crazy school.  
  
I think you have something there, he informed me. I really think you do.  
  
**  
  
Like in my first story, the star of this one would be a character I had used before. Her name was Phoebe, and she was the kinder, gentler half of a set of twins. Her sister, Angelina, was the defiant one, and it was Angelina who was my muse's first selection as the chosen mutant.  
  
Uh-uh, I said immediately.  
  
And why not?  
  
Angelina's kind of special to me. I've written about her before, and... I don't know... it just doesn't work.  
  
Does Phoebe have any friends?  
  
The way the story goes, the mother's always remarrying, but none of her husbands have ever had kids. It's about time something like that happened. I came up with the character's name, Todd (the fact that he shared a name with a character from X-men: Evolution didn't come to my attention later, but -- and I cannot stress this point enough -- it was a total coincidence), and his age, which was sixteen or thereabouts, the same as Phoebe. Now comes the hard part.  
  
What's that?  
  
I don't usually write about characters with powers because I always have such a hard time thinking those powers up.  
  
I should think it would be enough that he was a mutant.  
  
You mean the story shouldn't really focus on his power? I considered this. True, it doesn't have to, but I'd like it to be something I've dealt with in my stories before.  
  
Perhaps he can read minds. Was there a hint of amusement in Xavier's mental voice?  
  
I neglected to mention that that was something _everyone_ had dealt with in their stories. Oh, please. Telepaths cause nothing but trouble... I trailed off, remembering whom I was dealing with here. Oh. Right. What I meant by that was, Yeah. What a good idea. I think I'll go ahead with it.  
  
So I did. 


	6. Many a Guise

musefic6

Chapter 6: Many a Guise  
  
Evil can come in many a guise  
And the wrong advice can confuse the wise.  
-- Lynne Reid Banks  
  
The story was posted under the title I Need No Shelter but it was referred to thereafter as the Phoebe story. And it got great reviews -- better than I'd ever seen before.  
  
Get a load of this one, I said. Whoever this is wants me to make Phoebe a mutant.  
  
Very amusing, Xavier agreed.  
  
And this person said I was slightly confusing when I was writing about you. I paused. Hey, what's wrong? Is the world-saving business getting to be too much?  
  
You were more than slightly confusing. You were downright insulting. If I hadn't known that the great Professor Xavier was incapable of sulking, I could have sworn that that was exactly what he was doing.  
  
I insulted you in my story about Delia, I reminded him.  
  
She's one of the Friends of Humanity. It's natural that she would dislike me. But Phoebe had no reason to do so. She completely ignored what was right and what was best, and gave in to her own fear.  
  
But that was what you said should happen, wasn't it? You said that not everyone warmed up to you at first sight, and everything.  
  
Most people, if they had any decency, saw the light eventually. A story like this would put bad ideas in other fans' heads.  
  
They know it's just a story.   
  
Change it.  
  
I could barely believe what I was hearing. What? I'm not changing my story. I like the way it turned out, and you can't change my mind about that.  
  
That, I was soon to discover, was totally the wrong thing to say.  
  
Are you going to write a sequel?  
  
I grinned. Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers? I could practically feel him wince. Sorry, I couldn't resist. So, what do you think the sequel should be about?  
  
**  
I've always been kind of interested in villains. When I was a little kid, I was hooked on Disney movies, and the idea was firmly fixed in my mind that the songs sung by the bad guys were the best ones. If I had been administering the Villain Test back then, a lot of them -- the villains, not the songs -- would have rated pretty high.   
  
A villain has to have a goal, preferably altering and/or destroying and/or conquering the world somehow. They have to have a plan for achieving that goal, almost always at someone else's expense. They have to have some means of justifying what they did -- the more warped, the better. They had to be manipulative, persuasive, and scary. They had to have minions, and it never hurt if they had some means of controlling people.  
  
I'll tell you a secret -- despite being so interested in the concept of evil, I certifiedly suck at creating a villain of my own. It's something I'm just not good at, despite having some very specific criteria as to what the perfect villain should be. I was, however, good at deciding which of other people's characters would make suitable villains, so Mindy and I did that.   
  
But there was always something missing -- or, rather, something we had to add. An extra power. A hidden agenda. Sometimes they went out of character altogether. And I hated that, even though I never told her. Surely there must be some character out there that I could see as evil without having to change them.  
  
And now, looking over the Phoebe story again and thinking about my reaction when I'd first become familiar with the infamous X-men, I knew that my waiting was over. He fit all the parameters, even the very handy bonus of originally being a good guy -- not to mention naturally able to control people's minds. Muse or no muse, there was no way around it: Xavier was the perfect villain. And best of all, nobody could give me the you're-taking-it-too-seriously-he's-not-even-real lecture. Well, they could, but I wouldn't listen, because I knew otherwise.  
  
At that moment, I didn't even care what Xavier himself thought.  
  
Call that my fourth big mistake.


	7. Of Secret Plots and Agency Grunts

musefic7 

Chapter 7: Of Secret Plots and Agency Grunts  
  
If Xavier had been upset with the way I portrayed Scott, I could only imagine how he'd react to this. How exactly do you go about asking your muse to help you make him evil? I'd have to write it on my own, and hide my revelation from him in the meantime. I had an idea that authors hid ideas from their muses all the time and didn't worry about letting those ideas slip, but I also had an idea that most muses weren't telepaths.  
  
More to the point, most muses weren't Xavier.  
  
**  
  
It was lucky that I entered the kitchen just as my sister was answering the phone. She was frowning, totally confused. There's nobody named Neva here. I think you might have the wrong number.  
  
Give me that, I said quickly, grabbing the phone from her. Who could it be?   
  
The voice was somehow familiar.  
  
This is.  
  
My name is Clancy. I work for Inspiration, Inc. --  
  
I remember, I said. What is it?  
  
I was calling to see how things are going.  
  
I said, still a little bit perplexed. I've been getting great reviews.  
  
he repeated, obviously disgusted. And he's been helping you?  
  
It's part of the contract, isn't it?  
  
Yeah. Along with the No Mind Control Policy, and the rule against sleeping with your muse, which everyone breaks.  
  
I made a gagging noise.  
  
Clancy laughed. I think you're safe there.  
  
Of course I am. He's old, bald, and creepy. But I was curious now. Has this happened? People hooking up with their muses, I mean?  
  
Has it ever! It's mostly people who didn't hire their muses through the agency, so we don't bust them. But it's happened. Like with Logan and that Ice. And Bobby and some girl, I forget what she calls herself. Some other name with princess' in it. I could almost hear him snapping his fingers. Metroprincess, that's it. She's good, too. Wrote a Generation X story. There aren't enough of those.  
  
I had become indebted to those particular characters, even though none of them actually appeared in the Phoebe story. I'll have to check it out.  
  
Are you going to be at the Cafe this Friday?  
  
I blinked. The what?  
  
The Subreality Cafe. Clancy seemed shocked that I would even ask.  
  
They let writers in?  
  
Writers, yes. Characters, definitely. Now he sounded more mournful than shocked. Lowly agency grunts, no.  
  
That, I know I'll have to check out.  
  
The Subreality Cafe? I hope you're not getting any ideas.  
  
Gotta go, I informed Clancy. My presence is required at the request of His Hoverosity.  
  
Clancy snorted. Okay. Our number's on the flier -- call us if you need us.  
  
To Xavier, I don't know. I was thinking it would be kind of interesting. I don't need your permission, do I?  
  
I'm going with you.  
  
My teeth punctured my lip in the attempt not to scream, out loud. What?!  
  
Subreality is a dangerous place, child.  
  
Don't call me that. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself if any scary fictives harrass me. I didn't mention that I was planning on going without him precisely so that didn't happen.  
  
Do you not want to be seen with me?  
  
No, I just think people might be a little confused. You know, since you're the villain in my stories and everything.  
  
They won't be confused, he assured me.  
  
You're not talking about controlling their minds, are you? It was the first time either of us had publicly acknowledged that he could do that. I had honestly hoped that he would be the one to mention it first.  
  
I only do that for...  
  
I sighed. The greater good. I know.  
  
A/N: Next chapter: a visit to Subreality, and some other authors make an appearance. Rachel, you'll be in it, so be afraid. Be very afraid.  
  
  
  
  



	8. Subreality

musefic8 

Disclaimer: ANY AUTHORS MENTIONED BELONG TO THEMSELVES. I didn't ask anyone's permission except Rachel's, so please don't be mad at me.  
  
Chapter 8: Subreality  
  
Writer Neva, the man blocking the door said slowly, and for the third time.  
  
I said for the third time.  
  
And this is? He glanced behind me.  
  
Oh, him? He's nobody.  
  
I see. We don't let nobodies into the Cafe, I'm afraid.  
  
He's my muse, I said reluctantly.  
  
I thought you said you weren't afraid to be seen with me, Neva.  
  
Make an effort to stay out of my head for this little adventure. Make a really conscious effort.  
  
As you wish.  
  
I smiled at the guy at the door, trying to look like a nice, sane writer and not a teenybopper (or worse, a lurker) cruising Subreality for kicks. Trust me. I have an account, I speak the lingo, I've gotten reviews.  
  
Very well.  
  
The cafe was loud, steamy, and packed with people. I recognized a few of the X-men, and smiled and waved at Logan. He looked confused for a moment, then grinned back at me. I assumed that the girl by his side was Ice, but I was too shy to go ask.  
  
Another girl had sidled up to me. I've never seen you here before.  
  
This is my first time.  
  
Great place, isn't it?  
  
So far.  
  
I'm Sophie, the other girl told me. Otherwise known as Storm13.  
  
I recognized the name. You reviewed my story, I said like an idiot. She looked confused. I'm Neva, I clarified.  
  
Sophie brighted. Yeah, that's right. I loved it.  
  
She has a good muse, Xavier spoke up.  
  
And such a modest one, too.  
  
Sophie looked confused. He's your muse? But I thought --  
  
I know what you thought. At least, I thought I did.  
  
I mean, you actually got me to rethink everything I believed about him, she went on. I could see him as a villain.  
  
Don't tell me this is Neva. Yet another girl advanced over to us, an unfamiliar blonde boy in tow.  
  
This is Rachel and Bobby, said Sophie.  
  
Otherwise known as Cabana Boy, Rachel said drily. A pause. When I call you that, it means that I want you to go get me a drink. Please.  
  
No way. I don't want to miss the girl who managed to make the professor sound villainous... no offense, he added in Xavier's direction.  
  
None taken, Xavier told him. I didn't know you were seeking out work as a muse.  
  
I didn't seek her out, she sought me out. I get no respect.  
  
You'll get some respect when I start getting some inspiration, Rachel remarked. And a margarita.  
  
Bobby vanished, and she turned to me. Loved your story.  
  
I liked yours, too.   
  
Your characters were good... not to mention your showing a certain someone in an out-of-favor light.  
  
I said.  
  
I think she has a future in the anti-Xavier genre, Sophie said to nobody in particular.  
  
Anti-Xavier isn't a genre, grumbled Bobby, who'd reappeared with Rachel's drink.  
  
It is now, she said, taking a sip.  
  
I couldn't have agreed more.  
  
Sophie was looking over my shoulder. Here comes trouble.  
  
I spun around to find myself face to face with Scott. It was hard to tell, since he was wearing his visor, but he looked pretty steamed. People can say whatever they want about me, he snapped. They can make me suicidal --  
  
It's been done, Sophie remarked.  
  
-- or slash me with Logan --  
  
That's been done, too, Rachel piped up.  
  
But when you start saying everything you've been saying about the professor, then you've gone too far.  
  
I made my who, me? face.  
  
Xavier sighed. Everything is under control, Scott.  
  
It had better be. I hope you're keeping an eye on this one.  
  
Get lost, I told him. It's fan fiction. We can say whatever we want.  
  
People are talking, Scott informed Xavier. They're talking about her -- here he gestured at me -- and this whole trend she's starting. She's a bad influence.  
  
I am still here, I said a little too loudly. I knew that Scott was an ass, but this took the proverbial cake.  
  
She's not hurting anyone, said Bobby. Xavier and Scott both looked at him in surprise.  
  
Rachel, however, smiled. Maybe there's hope for you yet, Cabana Boy.  
  
**  
  
Why are you smirking like that? Xavier demanded once we were outside.  
  
Because I have fans, I said, unable to keep the goofy smile off my face. I have people who like my stories.  
  
At my expense.  
  
I thought you didn't have a problem with that.  
  
You are putting ideas into other people's heads, he accused.  
  
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Really? I thought that was _your_ talent.  
  
And not one I'm fond of using, but I will if I have to.  
  
Not for the first time and not for the last, I gasped out,   
  
He stared intensely at me. Change your attitude...  
  
I stood frozen as he said the rest of it in my head -- the words I now knew he would say, the words I'd been fearing since we first met.  
  
...before I change it for you. 


	9. True Confessions

Chapter 9: True Confessions  
  
Inspiration, Inc. Clancy speaking. How may I help you?  
  
My heart was literally pounding. This is Neva, I whispered.  
  
What's up? Is this about the retreat?  
  
  
  
There's a writer's retreat next weekend. You're supposed to be getting info over the computer. So I guess you're not calling about that, huh?  
  
Not exactly, I said, and recounted our trip to Subreality.  
  
Good grief, said Clancy when I was done. You're not just making this up because you don't like him, are you? And then, snidely, Or maybe because you do.  
  
Don't be an idiot, I hissed. He threatened to take over my mind, and I'm kind of freaked out. What am I supposed to do?  
  
Why would he do that?  
  
All my stories! I emphasized. They've put bad ideas into people's heads or something. He knows that it's not just something I'm experimenting with for my fan fiction, it's something I really think. And don't you start, I added, as if he'd been about to. Don't you start saying that I have no right to think he's evil, he only controls people's minds for the greater good...  
  
I believe you, Clancy said in a really small voice.  
  
I blinked. You what?  
  
I've never liked him. In fact, I felt really guilty about assigning him to you, given your history...  
  
What history is that? I asked suspiciously.  
  
Your history of thinking that every telepath you run into is automatically evil.  
  
I don't think he's automatically evil. Or it's not 'cause of that. And how'd you know about my   
  
I have my ways, he said in an obnoxiously mysterious voice.  
  
Can we get back to my first problem? What am I supposed to do?  
  
Well, I haven't known you for very long, but it doesn't seem like you're planning on renouncing your ideas. The No Mind Control Policy was part of the agreement, and he knows that. If we can prove that he really said what he said, he could be in huge trouble with the agency. And even if we can't, you can always fire him. He's your muse, after all.  
  
Fire him? I repeated. The idea had never even occurred to me.  
  
Yeah. You say the word, and poof! He's gone.  
  
I wondered how anyone who seemed to know so much could even think to use the word in connection to Xavier, and decided that I didn't want to know. All that aside, I guess it hadn't really occurred to me that it was my call whether my muse went or stayed. Maybe it was the fact that I, like so many other people, had succombed to the notion that whatever situation he was in, he was in charge. He had totally freaked me out when he'd made that little suggestion, and I had no doubt that he was serious. And Clancy was right when he'd said that there was no way I was changing my mind.  
  
But did I want Xavier gone? Really? If it weren't for him, the Phoebe story never would have gotten off the ground. I might not have met such people as Rachel and Sophie. And we had that new story we were working on, Waking From the Dream. I wasn't sure whether I would be able to go the rest of the way on my own.   
  
came Clancy's voice. Are you there?  
  
I'm right here.  
  
What do you say? I can hook you up with a new muse before you can say, Grand Manipulator of All Time.'  
  
I took a deep breath, knowing I wouldn't really believe what I was about to say until I said it. When you're being inspired by someone who can read your mind, you forget how important it sometimes is to say something aloud. If you could absolutely guarantee that he wouldn't try to control me, that would be great.  
  
Clancy prompted.  
  
But I don't want to fire him, I said in a rush. _Oh, God, tell me that I don't have to say what I'm about to say. I'm never going to live this down._ I need him.


	10. Everywhere To Me

Chapter 10: Everywhere To Me  
  
It wasn't until later that either of us spoke of it. And when I say, I mean it literally. Xavier was now actually present when he was helping me, thanks to a teleportation device supplied by the agency.   
  
We had reached some kind of compromise regarding the nature of my fan fiction and his role in it. I told him, though not in so many words, that I had no idea what my stories would be about if not how evil he was. He suggested doing what I'd done at the beginning of my career, so to speak: involving other characters.  
  
By the time my sister called out that dinner was ready, a summons I pointedly ignored, I was on the third chapter of my crossover. He was reading over my shoulder, asking me questions about who Max was and how she'd gotten into the situation she was in. Apparently, he wasn't a _Dark Angel_ fan. Having him that nearby made me uncomfortable, but it was better than the alternative, so I kept my mouth shut.  
  
Until, out of the blue, he blurted out, The concept of mind control frightens you, doesn't it?  
  
I tried to pretend I didn't hear that, and gestured at the screen. Is this in character for your Hoverosity?  
  
Where did you ever come up with that one? He peered at what I had written. Very nice.   
  
Thanks... I think. Notice there's nothing up my sleeve.  
  
And you didn't answer my question.  
  
I sighed. The reason that you're still my muse is that I _know_ you won't be obnoxious. My thoughts are none of your business.  
  
And neither, according to you, are anyone else's. Am I right?  
  
It's my worst fear, I said casually, still facing the computer. I had debated inserting the word in between the first and third words of that statement, and decided against it. I was trying to be flippant, not sarcastic. I also wanted the subject to be closed. Now.  
  
Apparently, he wasn't receiving that.   
  
I don't know. I was thinking that Max could make friends with Rogue at the school. Sound good?  
  
Delightful. Why are you afraid?  
  
I actually spun around. You're talking like there's some reason I shouldn't be, I accused.  
  
As usual, he sat there calmly. I'm merely curious.  
  
Well, why wouldn't I be a little freaked out? I mean, if someone were actually trying to control what I think about... I actually shudder. I wouldn't be able to stop them. I'd feel... violated, I guess.  
  
Some people haven't the slightest idea, Xavier said as if that was supposed to make me feel better. Ignorance is bliss.  
  
I gave him a Look. Why do you do it?  
  
There are occasions when I have no choice. If an evildoer... I giggled.   
  
That word, I managed. Evildoer. I've just never heard an actual person use it before. Sorry. Go on.  
  
If someone is plotting a course of action that could destroy the world as we know it, and there is nothing my X-men can do about it, it's my responsibility to dissuade him.  
  
For the greater good, I said, rolling my eyes.  
  
  
  
Can we change the subject? Take a look at this. I scooted my chair to the side so he could wheel forward and look at what I'd written. I hope you don't mind being the one to help Lydecker.  
  
Isn't he the villain?  
  
He's the main villain. For once, you aren't. But he told you that Max and the others were terrorists, and you believed him. See, he had special training so that nobody could read his mind.  
  
Xavier closed his eyes, and I winced. But he was only muttering to himself, This is a phase... it will not last... this is a phase... it will not last...  
  
It was all I could do not to start giggling again.  
  
  



	11. Slash, Jealousy, and Rabid Fans

Chapter 11: Slash, Jealousy, and Rabid Fans  
  
There are two reasons why I love _X-Men: Evolution._  
  
One is tall, dark, and handsome, and can cause earthquakes just by concentrating. But that's another story and shall be told another time.  
  
The other is that since it's aimed toward younger kids (even though most people who write fan fiction in that universe are older than I am), everything always, without exception, turns out all right, and viewers (and their muses) can sit back and enjoy the ride. Nobody ever dies. The good guys always win. People who go against Xavier always see the error of their ways.  
  
Hah.  
  
So I decided that my first _Evolution_ fic, a Lance/Kitty romance, would deviate from that pattern ever so slightly. Oh, I wouldn't kill anyone off, of course, but I refused to guarantee a happy ending. I was soon to find out that there's enough angst in Evo fan fiction to make up for the lack thereof on the actual show.  
  
You seriously don't mind being slightly evil in this one, too? I asked Xavier.  
  
Did you not _see_ the way they portray me on that silly show? They're asking for it.  
  
I agreed with that. It seemed like the more pains they took to make him the good guy, the more evil he became. Never think that you can put someone like His Hoverosity in shades of black and white. He'll always come across as one or the other.  
  
**  
  
I am no good at sneaking out at night.  
  
Okay, this was the first time I'd ever done such a thing, and now I knew never to attempt it again. My mother and sister entered the front hall before I had even opened the door. (My father was also out that night, and I was glad.)  
  
Where are you going? my mom demanded.  
  
  
  
Out where?  
  
To a cafe with some friends of mine, I said truthfully.  
  
They exchanged looks. Maybe Xavier had been musing for me too long, because I could tell exactly what they were thinking: _She has a social life all of a sudden? Something must be wrong.  
_  
What friends? Mindy?  
  
No, some other friends. Maybe I shouldn't have said this, but I did anyway. We clicked because we're all X-men fans.  
  
My sister rolled her eyes. I'm sick of hearing about the X-men, she complained.  
  
Not my problem.  
  
I'm glad that you're finding people with common interests, Mom put in. Just don't take this too seriously -- remember what happened last time? You don't want people chasing you around telling you that the wizards are coming.  
  
The X-men are mutants. Not wizards.  
  
You know what I mean, she said. You're in high school now --  
  
_I've been in high school for three years,_ I thought.  
  
-- and you don't want people viewing you as a weirdo.  
  
I told you, they're fans just like I am, I said, having the strangest feeling that they weren't going to let me go.  
  
Do you have homework? was her next question.  
  
Finished it. I had done an entirely pointless algebra worksheet (I wish they'd use some other letter besides X -- it's damn distracting) and several chapters of reading for my English teacher (whom I'd nicknamed Baron Comb-over). It turned out that she had no further questions, so I made my escape.  
  
**  
  
What happened to Charlie boy? Rachel wanted to know. She, Bobby, Sophie and her muse (a very cute guy named Stephan), and I were crowded into one of the downsized booths at the Subreality Cafe.  
  
Don't call him that! Bobby squeaked.  
  
He had stuff to do.  
  
Any more threats of mind control? Sophie asked.  
  
  
  
You know, there are ways of dealing with that kind of thing, Rachel continued. You could portray him... unfavorably in one of your stories.  
  
I already do that.  
  
Do you write slash?  
  
I shook my head.  
  
Pity. You should.  
  
I realized what she was planning. I can't. It would be an awful story. And I'd never hear the end of it. Besides, everyone writes Xavier slash.  
  
Oh, really? With who?  
  
Magneto, mostly. And I think Logan, once, but I didn't actually read the story, so it might have been a misunderstanding.  
  
Rachel thought about this. she said finally. Tell your muse that if he rolls out of line again, _I_ will slash him with Scott. I giggled and so did she. So, after a pause, did Sophie. Or maybe Sabretooth, Rachel added with relish.  
  
This time we all shrieked.  
  
I _beg_ your pardon?  
  
Oh, don't get your head all bent out of shape. She didn't mean it.  
  
I can personally attest to the fact that she did, Xavier said rather pompously.  
  
You've been in her mind, haven't you.  
  
It's my responsibility as your muse, my child.  
  
Don't call me that, I intoned.  
  
Then stop calling me Charlie boy.  
  
I _didn't_ call you that, I pointed out. She did. And getting back to that subject, stay out of my friends' heads. Or else.  
  
What can I say? Rachel was saying now. The slash threat is a great one. Every time Bobby slacks off, I say I'm going to pair him with Sam Guthrie.  
  
But you never do, her muse told her.  
  
That's because you've been so good lately. She kissed his ear.  
  
I pretended to be very interested in my drink, not wanting either of them to know how jealous I was. I knew that most people chose characters to whom they were attracted, and whom they couldtherefore could flaunt shamelessly in front of their fellow authors. Rachel and Bobby... Ice and Logan... Sophie and Stephan.  
  
Of course, I hadn't chosen Xavier. Clancy had chosen him for me.  
  
If I had known, would I have asked him to pick someone different?  
  
**  
  
Holy guacamole! I exclaimed. Will you look at all these reviews?  
  
It was after school the next day. I had a pile of homework that I wasn't doing, an hour and a half at work ahead of me (putting little numbers on the pages of manuscripts -- what joy), and I barely cared.  
  
You care too much about getting reviews, Xavier said for the umpteenth time. It seems like a huge ego boost.  
  
  
  
He peered over my shoulder. This Twinkles' seems to be a big fan of yours.  
  
I wouldn't go so far as to say I have _fans_, I said modestly.  
  
Good. It isn't a pleasant experience.  
  
I had heard, of course, of crazed fangirls who got all dolled up and chased after the mutants of their choice. Do you...  
  
Not me, no. But I've always been present when mobs of hyperactive young women in tight jeans and revealing tops storme the mansion for a glimpse of Logan...  
  
I supplied.  
  
  
  
Never mind.  
  
Or Gambit. He's a big favorite. They're fond of his accent, I suppose. And the so-called Cajun charm. There are several interested in Bobby --  
  
(I smiled, thinking of Rachel.)  
  
-- not a few chasing afer Cyclops, and a fan or two pursuing Nightcrawler. The list goes on and on. Scott spent several days recovering after the last attack.  
  
I had a new, greater respect for the X-Men after hearing this.  
  
Whoever said that most of our fans were boys should check the statistics, Xavier went on. These girls are irresistable, and unstoppable. All my mental abilities have no effect on them.  
  
Not for the first time, I was glad that I wasn't a fan. I had a crush on Logan for a while, but I don't think I could ever go crazy like that.  
  
He smiled. I know you wouldn't. And I wondered again how this could be the same person who had threatened me that night at Subreality. I assume that story isn't finished?  
  
It's going to read like an actual episode of the show, I reminded him. That was your idea, remember? The fact that eventually, it pretty much _was_ an actual episode of the show was unknown to both of us at that point.  
  
Right. Which means that Lance and Kitty aren't going to stay together.  
  
She's going to be rescued, I stated. And brought back.  
  
After the requisite battle.  
  
I wrinkled my nose. I'm terrible with fight scenes.  
  
On your own, you're terrible with them.  
  
I nodded, grinned, and went back to work.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Clear as Crystal

Chapter 12: Clear as Crystal  
  
I was sprawled on my bed, facing the ceiling, a book in my hands. My muse peered at it incredulously. You're reading a writing manual?  
  
It's not a writer's manual. Check the title. _On Writing: a Memoir of the Craft._ Nowhere does it say manual,' and even if it did, watch what you say about it. This is the work of Stephen King, the master himself.  
  
The master of what?  
  
Horror. Suspense. You name it. And you want to know what he says about writing? I bounced upright on the bed, squeaking the mattress springs heartily.  
  
I simply couldn't imagine, Xavier said.  
  
That it's really a form of telepathy, because a writer is transmitting images into a person's head without saying anything. I like that.  
  
So do I, he admitted.  
  
We were midway through the second volume in my Evolution saga, and, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing to suggest that they should be together, I had added some romance between Rogue and Alex, as well as the entrance of Jean's evil twin.  
  
Sara seems like quite the troublemaker, Xavier commented.  
  
She just has a lot of Issues. She's jealous of Jean and really hates being a mutant but not having a useful power.  
  
But it will serve as a plot device, won't it?  
  
I sighed. Though goodness knows _how_.  
  
He considered this. Well, Kitty is having these nightmares as a side effect of being brainwashed, right?  
  
Yup. And Scott, too.  
  
Since when? he wanted to know.  
  
Since the season premiere, duh. The only reason I hadn't shrieked in protest at the end of that particular episode, when Lance had revealed to most of the student body that mutants existed and Xavier had decided to solve it by erasing everyone's memories, was that a friend had warned me about it ahead of time. (A/N: Thanks, Caitlin -- you saved me from a painful death at the hands of my sister!) If there isn't enough evidence in there that Scooter's mind is being controlled, then... well, I don't know what.  
  
Xavier stressed, your resident villain (he always did that, as if his Evo incarnation was a different character entirely) needs someone to blame for the suspicious happenings. And Sara can control people's dreams, right?  
  
I stared. Where'd you ever come up with that one?  
  
As I said, I don't approve of the way they portrayed me in this ridiculous show that you insist on watching. (It had, in fact, become one of the few things that could get a laugh out of him. The nickname was another.) I would certainly never try to hide the existence of mutants from ordinary people, for one.  
  
I wasn't sure how much I wanted to know the answer to this, but he would probably find out that it was floating around in my mind. But you would resort to doing what you did at the soccer game, if things got out of hand?   
  
If I had to, in order to protect both races, I would. He cringed. You're going to throw that writering manual at me, aren't you?  
  
I have no patience for people who resort to mind-wiping as a way of weaseling out of things, I said forcefully. You should have realized that by now. And it is _not_ a writing manual!  
  
Another question.  
  
  
  
Your audience for your _Evolution_ fan fiction is an entirely different one than for the rest of your stories, am I right?  
  
Except for Rachel, yeah.  
  
And my role in it is going to become more and more negative? he went on.  
  
Damn straight.  
  
And I also assume that you're not going to tell your loyal readers that I'm your muse?  
  
I hadn't thought about that. You don't think they'd understand?  
  
Consider it for a moment.  
  
I did. Not a pretty picture. I don't think that's going to be a problem, I said finally. Most writers in that category don't name their muses -- if they have them.  
  
You don't feel guilty keeping this from them?  
  
A little. But I'll get over it. And if I tell them, and they mysteriously forget, things will not bode well for you. Are we clear?  
  
As crystal, Xavier said. If your friends are unable to deal with the fact that you don't find the chief evil force in your stories as evil as you thought, that's their problem.  
  
He was right, of course. About my not thinking he was so evil anymore, I mean. Did I mention how annoying it was sometimes to have a telepath for a muse? 


	13. Intervention

A/N: Here we go -- a nice angsty chapter, as well as my first-ever attempt to make you-know-who sound like a genuinely nice person. Just for the record, I have friends who would never, ever do a thing like what happens in here. I know it, and I hope you know I know it. Okay, guys?  
  
Chapter 13: Intervention  
  
Although I can deal with my crazy family, my crazier friends, and threats of mind control, high school still has me stumped. Ignoring the work, which is mostly easy if one wants to make the effort, the whole atmosphere is more than slightly pointless. The teachers think that they're with it. The principal thinks she can dissect us. We have to sing military marches in chorus. And I bet that there's not one person there who doesn't wish that he or she were somewhere else.  
  
I definitely wished that when I confronted my friends at lunch. Weird things had been happening all day -- weird things here meaning, people I didn't know running up to me and shouting random things about the X-Men, most of them incorrect.  
  
You are not going to believe this, I began, and told them.  
  
Mindy and Elise exchanged glances. Um, we kind of have to talk to you, Mindy said.  
  
  
  
I really didn't want to tell you this, but...  
  
I had a horrible feeling that I knew what was coming.  
  
...we're sick of hearing about the X-Men, Elise finished. It's all you talk about. This obsession has taken over your life.  
  
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I said, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Has it really gotten that bad?  
  
They exchanged glances again. It's always been this bad, Mindy said. We've hated it the whole time. We just didn't want to tell you until now. What good would it do?  
  
I saw her point. Okay, I'll try to stop. I was trying to figure out a way to say, There are people out there who _are_ interested in listening when she opened her mouth again.  
  
That's not all. We're really worried about you and this obsession.  
  
If we say one negative word about it, Elise spoke up, you start screaming at us. If we try to talk about something else, you turn the conversation back around.   
  
We like talking to _you_, not the part of you that likes Xavier so much.   
  
There is _no_ part of me that likes Xavier, I muttered, no matter how untrue this was becoming.   
  
See? Here you go again, getting all passionate about it. It's not even real. It doesn't matter. Hate to break it to you, but he doesn't even exist.  
  
Now Elise had swung fully into her I-understand-this-is-difficult-but-you-need-my-help voice. Since you became obsessed with the X-Men, you've become really weird. You bring up issues from the show in class.  
  
I had done nothing of the sort. Okay, maybe I had brought up mutants in a social studies discussion about racism, but I was just comparing that situation with the one we were talking about. The teacher had taken it very well, as if he heard that sort of thing every day, although he had probably been surprised to hear it from a sixteen-year-old girl in bell-bottoms, a silk shirt, and a fuzzy scarf, rather than a second-grade boy with sticky hands. I had gotten some awfully strange looks from Elise and the others, though, and had kept my mouth shut ever since.  
  
We think there's something wrong, she finished.  
  
Or maybe you just have no life, Mindy said nastily. I had never known her to be nasty about anything before. And we spread the word because we want you to know how it feels to be pestered for a change.  
  
By the end of the week, when I lost count of how many people had gotten in my face and shouted that Xavier wasn't evil, or did increasingly worse Wolverine imitations, or asked if I thought I was a mutant, I did indeed know how it felt. And I was sorry I had been annoying, but I also dreaded what would happen the following week, because I knew from experience that once they started with something like this, they didn't quit it.  
  
**  
  
Friday is strictly time -- any-work-free time, usually, and that particular Friday, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I was determined to do at least a little bit of writing. Even when I'd booted up my computer, even when I'd opened the file that would be the last chapter of Something More Than This, and even though I had a very good idea of what I was going to write, I didn't start typing right away.  
  
For almost a year, I had thought of this as an obsession. Not my first, and, in all probability, not my last. The year before, it had been Harry Potter. Before that, my sister and I had shared a Batman fixation. Each time, there was one character for whom I had a particular dislike... yet couldn't get out of my mind.  
  
Literally, in this case.  
  
Remember when I said that Xavier fit all the determining criteria as a villain? Well, he also fit all the criteria of a so-called Fictional Character that I fully expected to hate. I _did_ hate him at first, pegged him as my latest nemesis, lashed out at anyone who said that he couldn't be evil because he's a good guy! And I, like everyone around me, treated the X-Men as just another obsession (once everyone around me knew that I had more than a passing knowledge of the characters). Just another weird thing that I'd gotten sucked into because I felt threatened by people who didn't exist... or, more likely, because the outcast metaphor hit a little too close to home.  
  
And that was one thing that hadn't changed, either. But it was overshadowed by how good it felt whenever anyone else brought up the X-Men, as if I were in a foreign country and had just found someone who spoke my language. Or to be part of (_part of_ -- yikes!) a group that had been united by our common interest and the knowledge that didn't have to be a dirty word.  
  
So why _was_ I hanging out with people whom I drove crazy just by bringing up what I loved? I certainly hadn't meant to annoy them, but I had, and if I had to choose between them and the wonderful new world I had just discovered, I would choose the latter without question. I was sure of it.  
  
But if I was so sure of it, why did I feel like crying? And why didn't I mind when someone (i.e., my sister) told me that Lance wasn't real, but when someone said the same thing about Xavier, it hurt?  
  
What's the anti-Xavier cause'? came a voice behind me.  
  
I turned, still seated. I mumbled. Still an _Evolution_ story.  
  
Someday, that's going to stop working, Xavier warned me.  
  
I'm sure it is. Before we get going, I want to ask you a favor.  
  
  
  
I want you to sic your' X-men on my so-called friends.  
  
Do they pose a threat to humanity?  
  
Not _exactly_, I said slowly, but nobody has to know that except us.  
  
What have they done?  
  
By the time I had finished telling the whole stupid story, I really was crying. What gives them the right to be so stupid? This kind of thing happened to me all through middle school, when I thought... I stopped myself just in time. But things are supposed to be different now. I'm not supposed to be so involved in what doesn't even exist.  
  
He grasped my hand suddenly. His grip felt warm and strong and very real. I almost pulled away -- unlike most authors and their muses, we didn't do a whole lot of touching. I resent that, he said, and I knew he had been responding to what I had said, not what I had been thinking.  
  
You're real to me, I explained. So are Rachel and Sophie and their muses, and so's Clancy and the agency. But I can't stay in Subreality forever, and the people who I'm going to be interacting with when I decide to move on...   
  
Why do you care about them?  
  
They don't matter now, I stressed. But I know that I won't always be... obsessed. I couldn't believe that this was happening. Of all the people I could have found myself confiding in. On any other day, in any other situation, I would have been disgusted with myself. It'll pass, and I don't want it to. I love the X-Men, I love being a fan, and this is the most fun I've ever had, in all my lives.  
  
Then that's all that matters, Xavier said simply. Not your family's opinion or your friends'. Just how _you_ feel about all this.  
  
I thought that you didn't want this to last.  
  
I have to admit, it is beginning to grow on me. You have a gift, Neva. And as I'm sure you've figured out by now, I've taken it as my responsibility to help people use their gifts for whatever purpose is best. He released my hand, and I started crying again, laying my head on my arms. When I looked up again, he was gone.  
  
I remembered an item on a list I'd read online: Fanfiction muses are better than imaginary friends and way sexier. Well, I couldn't agree with the part -- I wasn't that far gone. But none of my imaginary friends had ever done squat for me. Who would have guessed? After all, I didn't call him Xavier the Savior just because it rhymed.   
  
  
  
  



	14. Betrayal

Chapter 14: Betrayal  
  
To my surprise, he wasn't at all offended by the reviewers who called him a bastard (there were two of them). I had definitely found my niche in Evo fan fiction... my readers were happy, and my muse was happy.  
  
And as for myself? Happiness came in small doses, whether it was having someone shout in recognition whenever I wore an X-Men T-shirt out of the house, like they were flashing some secret sign, or when I got my first review for _True Colors,_ saying that I had the ideas and the talent. Black Ice had, as she said, been a fan of mine since the beginning... along with Twinkles and X-Moonchik.  
  
I was continuing to hold out on Mindy and Elise conversation-wise, and the harrassment had become less intense, if just as frequent. I had been worried to tell my parents, both because they would think it was my fault and because I still needed to believe I could handle this myself. Whether this was true or not remained to be seen.  
  
They don't matter, Xavier said to me at one point. My computer kept making an annoying beep-beep noise to remind me either that it was still on or not to drop crumbs on the keyboard. I had smuggled the jar of unusually large, flat homemade chocolate-chip cookies up to my room and was making fast work of them as my muse and I traded ideas.  
  
How do you figure that?  
  
I've told you, it's their problem if they can't see how much you care about this. And the people who are pestering you must lead awfully boring lives.  
  
Well, to you and your disciples, any other kind of life is boring in comparison, I pointed out.  
  
Quite true, he acknowledged. I have an idea. Would you like to hear about it?  
  
  
  
Something drastic should happen to Rogue. She's the one in charge of this underground resistance, and Kitty should be left to handle it alone.  
  
I'm not crazy about making girls the victims just for the sake of making them the victims, I said. Three years of writing stories with Mindy had taught me a thing or two about female characters who admitted any sign of weakness.  
  
But she's already done that. Admitted weakness, I mean. Besides, it would bring Alex back into the picture.  
  
Just because I'm actually starting to trust you a little bit doesn't mean I want you reading my mind, I said sharply, scribbling the idea in my notebook.  
  
I thought you'd gotten past that.  
  
You thought wrong. It still squicks me, okay? I'm really sorry.  
  
Xavier said immediately. We all have our little quirks. Does the idea work, by the way?  
  
Oh, it works, I said positively, Alex's reaction already unfolding itself in my head. I don't know what I'd do without you... and you had better _not_ tell anyone I said that.  
  
**  
  
I've never seen that notebook before, he said to me.  
  
It's not for stories, it's for lists. Like this one: _Things I Don't Understand About X-Men: Evo._'  
  
I'm sure my list of those is longer than yours, Xavier challenged.   
  
Oh, do you?  
  
Well, it's personal for me.  
  
It's personal for me, too. You're my muse. I'm, um, interested in Lance, even though I never met his comics incarnation. Okay, here goes: 1. Do people know about mutants?  
  
I haven't been able to figure that out yet, but it appears not.  
  
But it's one of the best parts of the story! I said incredulously. The whole world-that-fears-and-hates-them thing. Question two: Why do Magneto's eyes glow, and how does he fly?   
  
That's two questions.  
  
You know him a lot better than I do, I said. Any ideas? The mutant in question had always been kind of a touchy subject, which was probably why he had never appeared in any of my stories. I wondered if I was even going to get an answer.  
  
I may know why he flies, but as for the other thing, the only reason I can think of is that he's the villain.  
  
That's not a reason, I muttered.  
  
I know, but it's the best I could do.  
  
**  
  
I think that the number-one way you can tell if you're attracted to a fictional character is by whether you'd ever request him as a muse.  
  
Don't get excited, though. I _didn't_ request Xavier, remember? And although the lust and the muse gig aren't mutually exclusive, the latter could definitely exist without the former. And with Lance, I was sure that the former would go on existing without the latter even if the position of my inspiration hadn't already been filled. No matter how cute I thought he was, or how endearing his bad rock puns were becoming, no matter how much even that stupid bowl he wore on his head was beginning to grow on me, I somehow knew that I would get bored with him as my muse. Quickly. And unlike my friends, I had never been bored with Xavier. Occasionally exasperated, sometimes scared, sometimes angry, and, after what happened next, a strange mixture of the three. But never bored.  
  
Funny how those things happen sometimes, isn't it?  
  
**  
  
I am ditching this story! I yelled in frustration.  
  
Xavier asked curiously.  
  
It just... I waved my other hand in exasperation. It isn't working. The Rogue/Alex thing is unprecedented, Kitty's acting pathetic, I have absolutely no idea how the good guys are going to win... if they even are. I think I started it too soon. I'm scrapping it and starting a new sequel. This always happens. I think it's a curse.  
  
I think it's mid-story crisis.  
  
I blinked.   
  
You were stuck like this midway through the preceding story, weren't you?  
  
I nodded.  
  
And the one before that?  
  
Yeah, but those cleared up eventually, I recalled.  
  
And so will this one. Give it time. One of us will come up with an idea that will bring it all together.  
  
I don't believe you, I said, and moved the mouse over to the Remove Story function... or at least tried to. At first I thought the thing was frozen, but after a minute, I realized that the mouse wasn't moving, that I wasn't even moving it. My hand simply refused to cooperate.  
  
My heart, however, was moving just fine... beating so frantically, in fact, that I was sure that my parents and sister could hear it on the floor below. Could I still speak? Yes, I did, and I said something that you can't put on paper.  
  
he chided.  
  
What the... I trailed off just in time, trying to move my hand again and failing.  
  
I will let you go when you promise not to delete that story. Just because I don't have any ideas now doesn't mean I won't in the future. Who knows? Maybe you'll come up with something on your own. If my X-Men gave up every time things got a little rough...  
  
Yeah, well, the only thing I actually have in common with any of them could be easily remedied if you let me go _now_!  
  
Will you continue with the story?  
  
I was beginning to get scared when the hand that had been clenched on the mouse twitched and relaxed. I let it fall to my side as relief coursed through me. Why didn't you just... change my decision?  
  
Because after you told me how you felt about mind control, I decided not to make that mistake again.  
  
You better not... Once again, I trailed off. What in the name of the cause do you mean   
  
Do you remember our first night at the Subreality Cafe? he asked instead. How I frightened you like that?  
  
I didn't think I would forget it as long as I lived, and told him as much.  
  
You knew that I was willing to use my power to influence your thoughts.  
  
Which is why I reported you to the agency, I supplied. I was going to fire you.  
  
Yes, and then you decided against it, Xavier said, looking like he was forcing the words out. I had never know him to be reluctant to say anything. As I have said many times, it would be a shame to let your talent go to waste. I did what I thought was best to ensure that your writing would continue to thrive, and I had no idea how strongly you felt about anyone invading your mind.  
  
I was speechless.  
  
I'm sorry, he concluded, and now he just looked terribly sad. I would have counted that as another definite first if I hadn't been at a total loss for words for the first time since he had become my muse.   
  



	15. The Way It Is

Chapter 15: The Way It Is  
  
I asked. No, wait, you told me why. You think that you somehow saved my stories. And you think that gives you the right to control my mind. The fact that I was just a lowly writer and he was... well, Xavier, was rapidly losing importance.  
  
Look at everything it brought you. Reviews. Loyal readers. New friends. Not to mention an agency employee with a more-than-professional interest in you.  
  
Leave Clancy out of this. If he likes me, it has nothing to do with you.  
  
You would have never have come this far on your own, he claimed.  
  
You don't know that. Check that -- it had no importance whatsoever. I was too furious to be afraid. If you think that everything I've gotten out of this experience was thanks to you...  
  
Who else are you going to credit? I inspired you, motivated you, comforted you when the pressures of your involvement with my X-Men got too high...  
  
If he kept calling them that, I would kill him. If there's one thing I've never been able to understand about you, I said through clenched teeth, it is why you assume that every person you help would be lost without you. If there's two things I can't understand about you, they're that and why you think that you have the right to mess with people's minds just because you say it's for the greater good.  
  
It will never happen again, he promised.  
  
I don't care. I would not cry in front of him again. I would not. If there's three things, the third is why just because you think that just because they're not fawning over you every ten seconds and calling you their freaking savior... that doesn't mean that they aren't beginning to like and trust you.  
  
And you were. He sounded amazed. You, of all people.  
  
I shook my head furiously. I don't think you should be surprised that it was me. But I know that I was pretty surprised that it was you.  
  
And what are you going to do now? Go back to being like everyone else? Go back to being normal? That was what you wanted all along, wasn't it?  
  
Leave me alone! I screamed. You are _so_ fired!  
  
Two things happened at once: the door opened, and Xavier vanished. One minute he was there, the next it was just me in the room... and now my mom, who'd no doubt come upstairs to see what was making all the noise.  
  
I'm fine, I replied.  
  
You don't look fine.  
  
I realized that I was crying, after all. It's nothing.  
  
Who was that yelling?  
  
I said that it was the radio, the excuse beloved by fanfic authors the world over.  
  
Did you read something that upset you? she pressed.  
  
  
  
Or get a nasty review? This with a critical glance at my computer.  
  
No. Please, leave me alone. I'm fine.  
  
The door closed.  
  
Hands shaking, I reached under my mattress and pulled out a much-creased flier. With my other hand, I made a grab for the phone.  
  
Three rings later, a sharp female voice answered, Inspiration, Inc. Marla speaking.  
  
Is Clancy in? I asked around a massive lump in my throat.  
  
Pardon me, miss, I can't understand you.  
  
I repeated what I'd said. Please hold, Marla told me.  
  
A moment later, Clancy's voice, sounding out of breath.   
  
It's me, I said.   
  
Hey, what's up? He sounded genuinely glad to hear my voice, making me wonder if Xavier hadn't been right after all.  
  
I said the word, I managed. And poof -- he was gone. And then I was crying so hard I couldn't speak, much less relate the rest of the story.  
  
He got it out of me, though, between big hiccuppy sobs, and was silent when I was done. Are you going to report it?  
  
That's what I'm doing now, isn't it?  
  
Oh, right. I'll talk to Mandril tomorrow. Neva?  
  
  
  
You sound pretty shook up about all this. Should I assume it's not just because he scared you?  
  
You assume correctly.  
  
You're going to miss him, aren't you?  
  
I didn't say anything.  
  
Strictly off the record, he assured me.  
  
I thought you weren't supposed to get personally involved with an author.  
  
I'm not, he said, but there was no shame in his voice. Come on, out with it? Are you going to miss him?  
  
Why do you ask questons to which you already know the answers? I asked, and hung up.   
  
Then I realized what I had just said. Why would I miss him? I had begun to trust him, and to like him, even... maybe...  
  
Like corny scenes in a cornier movie, memory fragments struck me full force, from the day he'd been waiting for me at the agency to the first time I'd broken down in front of him, after my friends had been so cruel to me, and he'd held my hand and whispered into my mind that I wasn't alone. What had he done to me _then_? What ideas had he planted in my head?  
  
I knew I shouldn't be surprised by all of this; after all, I'd written him as being able and willing to do far worse things. It had been a mistake to trust him in the first place. A mistake to keep going with this. I was anti-Xavier by nature. It was only right that it blow up in my face like this.  
  
But I had trusted him. I hated myself for it, because I knew that those feelings were all my own.   
  
I didn't bother to log off the computer, and it stared at me like a big, nonblinking eye as I curled up on my bed and cried some more.


	16. Better Off Alone

A/N: This story has a lot more angst than I realized. If it's getting too boring, please feel free to stop reading. Emmylou Harris owns the song.  
  
Chapter 16: Better Off Alone  
  
Rachel helped herself to a Pepperidge Farm cookie and held the bag out to me. Sophie had already taken a handful. Most girls had problems like this (well, maybe not _exactly_ like this) when they broke up with their boyfriends. Maybe Xavier had been right -- maybe I'd never be like everyone else.  
  
As if she had read my mind (note to self: do not ever use that expression again), she said, Don't worry, this happens all the time.  
  
Did it ever happen to you?  
  
Well, no, she confessed. But I chose my muse. You didn't. It was bound to happen sooner or later.  
  
But why?  
  
Because you're Neva, she said as if it were obvious. And he's Xavier. Your stories are as popular as they are, and as good as they are, because of the fact that he's evil in most of them.  
  
He didn't mind that.  
  
She ignored me. It was a great idea. I still think it is. And now that His Hoverosity doesn't have any say in the writing of your stories anymore, it can be however you want. If you still want to write. Let's consider our options.  
  
What options? We were sitting on a bench around the corner from the Cafe, which looked almost civilized in the daytime. A crisp wind stung my eyes. I hoped that it would be able to wake me up.  
  
Of what you're going to do next. You could stop writing.  
  
And stop eating, I snapped. And stop breathing and walking around. Next choice, please.  
  
You could switch to a different fandom, one that doesn't have so much... baggage attached. Didn't you once want to write Harry Potter stuff?  
  
I thought you said no baggage.  
  
Am I missing something? she wanted to know.  
  
It's a long story. Trust me, that universe has baggage for me. I wouldn't even know where to start if I did try to write a story. Besides, the whole thing with Xavier doesn't change the fact that I still want to write X-Men fan fiction.  
  
Then on to option three! Sophie cried.  
  
I turned to her. You knew about this list?  
  
Naturally. You need a new muse.  
  
I do? Lots of writers get on without them.  
  
Don't interrupt! she said imperiously. Rachel and I have comprised a list of possible candidates. Lance is first. She peered at me. Are you drooling?  
  
I licked my lips and tried to force the images of Lance sleeping in his underwear in the _Joyride_ episode out of my brain... then remembered that there was nobody around to see them.   
  
Neva, are you with us? Rachel snapped her fingers.  
  
  
  
You are of the opinion that Lance is hot, right?  
  
It's not an opinion, it's a fact.  
  
she said impatiently. Do you want him for a muse? Clancy says that it would be possible.  
  
I pictured it. It _was_ tempting, despite what I had said before. Are there any other candidates?  
  
She verbalized a list of very desirable mutants. I caught Pietro's name in there. And Scott's. None of it sounded very exciting to me. Or, rather, it _did_ sound exciting, and that was the problem.   
  
What about one of your own characters?  
  
I shook my head.   
  
So you're going to try to write without one, like you said? Sophie sounded amazed.  
  
If I have to. I adjusted my favorite scarf and stared at the cookie I was still holding. I wasn't hungry anymore.  
  
So, it's Xavier or nobody, she finished.  
  
Pretty much.  
  
Um, Neva... Rachel began. Wasn't the whole reason you did this in the first place because he was controlling your mind?  
  
I nodded.  
  
Well, how do you know that your not being satisfied with anyone else isn't just more of that?  
  
She had me there. I don't, I admitted.  
  
If you act all depressed just because he's not around anymore, you're just following his orders. Do you really want to be someone who does that?  
  
Of course not. But... Could I say that just because I didn't know didn't mean it was probable? That I still had this inexplicable urge to say He wouldn't do that!? That I wasn't going to say it, because it would just be proving them right? I have to go, I said, standing up abruptly. Thanks, guys. And I made my way out of the surreal land of possibilities, travelling toward safer territory.  
  
**  
  
I sat at my computer, typing out a new chapter of True Colors. It was fine. The story, I mean. It would work. My CD player was on in the background, and a pile of homework perched beside my computer. I was ignoring it.  
  
_God knows how I love you  
Like a user needs a drug  
And I'll never be free of you  
You are poisoning my blood  
I tried to swim that river  
To get to higher ground  
But I've been three times under  
The next one will see me drown  
  
But I don't want to talk about it now  
No, I don't want to talk about it now  
I don't want to talk about it now  
I want to go down  
  
God knows why you don't want me  
No one would do the things I do  
But to my grave it's gonna haunt me  
How I got down on my knees for you  
You're my obsession, and the reason that I live  
You've already got my soul  
There's nothing left to give..._  
  
I switched the stereo off. Yes, the chapter would work. Yes, it was fine. Yes, I even liked it a little bit. But somehow it didn't seem right. Not the story itself, but the whole atmosphere. I wasn't used to being alone as I wrote. I had been spoiled for that... or maybe it had been spoiled for me.  
  
Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe I was still brainwashed. Maybe I didn't miss his writing suggestions, his endless patience, the way he'd snorted with laughter the first time he'd ever actually seen an episode of _Evolution_. (I hadn't even realized he was capable of snorting with laughter. I doubted any of X-Men knew it either.) Maybe I could actually continue my writing career (and maybe the anti-Xavier parts would be even better now that they had a personal edge) without his utterly brilliant ideas on how to make him evil as possible. Maybe he just wanted to think that the way he'd made me feel more or less okay about being obsessed, and the look on his face when I'd said, _You're real to me_, was something that I would remember for the rest of my life.  
  
Maybe, once I was writing again, I would even believe it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. Confrontations

Chapter 17: Confrontations  
  
The young woman behind the desk didn't look at all intimidating. She wore her hair in a bun and her glasses on a chain, both of which looked like futile attempts to make her seem older and more qualified than she actually was. I would have liked her immediately if not for the healing-nurturer expression on her face. It reminded me depressingly of Elise.  
  
Her name was Penelope, and she was in charge of the muse department. Standing to the left of the desk was a squat, grumpy-looking man who I soon learned was Mandril, the big cheese himself. I sat in a chair, wearing my nicest dress (which was long and roughly the color of an eggplant) and ever-present black bandana, staring at the floor. I found myself wondering who these people were really, what their stories were. _Right,_ I thought. _That's really important right now. These people are about to condemn your muse -- your former muse -- for reasons that, like the fact that you should be scared of him in the first place, are becoming less and less important as time passes._  
  
You call yourself Neva? Penelope asked, glancing at a pile of papers.  
  
I nodded.  
  
And you write X-Men fan fiction.  
  
I nodded again.  
  
Very good X-Men fan fiction, Clancy spoke up from behind me.  
  
I had a good muse, I muttered.  
  
I don't doubt that, Penelope said briskly. However, if what Mr. Nicolson tells me is correct, Professor Xavier also broke a very strict rule. Mandril's eyebrows shot up. Not _that_ rule.  
  
I blushed.  
  
Would you mind telling us exactly how it happened?  
  
I began.  
  
Oh, not the process itself. I'm aware that you hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.  
  
Don't rub it in, I said. You want to know what led up to it, right? I told them about our infamous first trip to Subreality, and how I had called in the next day and then miraculously decided to let Xavier off the hook... and when my friends had plotted against me, and he had encouraged me to ignore what they thought... and when he had finally decided to tell me the truth. I had cried myself to sleep the first night; the second, I had stayed up for a long time, not thinking about it. I tended to get the shivery bits if I even let myself approach the fact that someone had been tampering with my mind, and I hadn't known it until it was too late. But it turned out that I had to remind myself of that very hard. Otherwise, I just started missing him again.  
  
Why did he tell you the truth? Penelope wanted to know.  
  
I don't know, I said. I wanted to ditch a story I was working on, and he didn't think it was such a good idea. I asked him why he didn't just change my mind, and he said that he didn't want to make that mistake again.  
  
And you called him on it, Clancy said helpfully.  
  
I did.  
  
That doesn't answer her question, Mandril said in a slightly nasal voice. Why do you believe he told you the truth?  
  
Because he had already let something slip.  
  
He could have covered it up. I'm sure you know that he's quite good at that. The healing-nurturer expression was back on Penelope's face. We're on your side here, Neva. We just need all the details if we're going to prosecute him.  
  
_And what good would that do? He'd still be controlling as many people as he wanted._ I guess... I guess he didn't want to lie to me.  
  
But isn't that what he had been doing? she demanded.  
  
He didn't lie. He just didn't tell me.  
  
That amounts to the same thing. Penelope peered at me over the tops of her glasses. Why are you siding with him?  
  
She had me there. I don't know.  
  
Do you feel a need to protect him?  
  
I don't know, I repeated.  
  
He invaded your mind. Now she sounded like there was a whole crowd of witnesses instead of Mandril, who looked like he was immensely enjoying the show; Clancy, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else; and me. He altered your emotions and decisions without your consent. From what I understand, you have no patience for anyone who does that. This with a pointed glance over my shoulder.  
  
I craned my neck around only to discover that it was Clancy's turn to stare at the floor. I glared at him. I didn't mean to tell anyone, he told his feet.  
  
Was the whole world against me? I know what he did, I said. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to forgive him somehow. I can't help it.  
  
The condescending smile was back on her face. Of course you can't.  
  
I said this like I had no idea what was coming next, but the truth was, I knew all too well.  
  
His hold on you is still as strong as ever, she continued.   
  
I had lived this moment through a multitude of misunderstood protagonists, felt their desperation and their realizations that they had backed themselves into a corner and that nobody would believe them when they insisted that... Nobody's controlling me, I said firmly.  
  
If you didn't know it before, you obviously don't know it now.  
  
I couldn't deny that, nor could I think of anything to say that wouldn't prove them right... which, for all I knew, they could be. That was the problem. The characters in their stories knew that they were acting on their own free will. I still wasn't sure.   
  
Of course I hated him for what he had done, and common sense told me it would be a long time before I forgave him. Or was able to trust him again.  
  
_Whenever I listen to my common sense, it always seems to sound just like you._ Standing up to stretch, to undo my hair, to pore over my old stories (if you wanted to call them that) in search of some hidden meaning, some connection to the way I wrote now.  
  
_How fascinating._ Smiling that half-smile that was growing on me slowly but surely.  
  
_I feel like one of your disciples.  
  
Do you now?  
  
I don't want to feel like that. No offense.  
_  
I _hadn't_ wanted to feel like that. I hadn't wanted him to be my savior or my lifeline, but I had wanted him to be my muse. I still did. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Some part of me that went deeper than common sense knew that we had worked amazingly well together before what happened, and although he had made me change my mind about him, whatever happened after that had been completely outside his control.  
  
I was angry at him for what he did, but I was angrier because he was so used to being needed that he'd forgotten that someone could want him around for a reason besides being indebted to him. I think that he was beginning to realize that, and that's why he knew that he'd made a big mistake.  
  
I want to believe that I would never forgive him or trust him again, I said shakily, and that the two of you --  
  
said Clancy.  
  
That the three of you can do whatever you want with him.  
  
But --  
  
But I think I can trust _myself_ to know that my thoughts are really my own. If I'm wrong, who cares?And it doesn't matter if you don't believe me. I stood up and walked outside, knowing that I would suffocate if I spent one more second with those two.  
  
I leaned against the outside wall for a little while, trying to regain my reality legs before I returned home. Someone touched my shoulder.  
  
It was Clancy, of course. His blonde hair was slightly windblown, and he was squinting into the bright almost-winter sun. Great exit, he commented.  
  
Go back inside, I ordered. You're obviously breaking some rule here.  
  
I thought it was my job to quote the rules, not yours.  
  
You're going to tell me to find another muse, right? Lance, or maybe one of my own characters? I didn't mention how put off I was by the latter idea.   
  
I was, he admitted.  
  
That's what I thought. And you're going to tell me that I'm just some poor, confused author who's been brainwashed by Xavier the Great and Terrible? Or how about that being inspired by him isn't good for my image?  
  
Whoa, whoa, who's putting words into whose mouth? He held up his hands. I believe you.  
  
I did a double take.   
  
You heard me. When you called in to support the Subreality incident--  
  
It has a name now? I interrupted with a smile.  
  
Sure, why not? Anyway, the thing that struck me the most was how you said, I need him.' You didn't say that this time. Not once. That's how I know it's really you talking.  
  
I said. But there's really nothing else you can do. I paused.   
  
  
  
I need you to drive me somewhere.  
  
  
  
I looked him square in the face. I think you know where, I said quietly.   
  
He grinned at me. If you're visiting the X-Mansion, the phrase _When in Rome, do as the Romans do_ can be used.'  
  
I found myself smiling back, for what felt like the first time in weeks. It didn't matter that I was getting in a car with a guy I hardly knew, going to a place that I had thought only existed in fiction, and out on a cold winter day with no jacket. It didn't matter that my mission, should I decide to accept it, was to make peace with someone who I had every reason to hate, and then some. Just don't try to fly when you know you can't.'  
  
A/N: That quote, and the one about fanfiction muses being better than imaginary friends (see chapter 13), are from the list Everything I need to know I learned from the X-Men by ice princess deluxe and company. It's honestly one of the funniest things I've ever read.  
  



	18. Free Your Soul

Chapter 18: Free Your Soul  
  
If there was a point where we left this world for another, I didn't notice it. Clancy and I talked the whole way there. I remember saying at one point, This is really weird.  
  
You mean, the fact that we're on our way to a place that you've always thought was fictional?  
  
Well, that, too, I admitted. But it's also weird how quickly life can change. I mean, a year ago, I was still obsessed with the Harry Potter books.  
  
He wrinkled his nose.  
  
Come on, they're not that bad. I also liked V.C. Andrews, though.  
  
Now, that's bad.  
  
Worse than bad, I corrected. My sisters thought I was a lost cause, kind of like they do now. What I was really thinking about was today, though. Before you called, I was thinking about going ice skating tonight with Mindy and Elise.  
  
You're not mad at them anymore?  
  
I stared at him. An awful thought occurred to me. Don't tell me...  
  
Clancy had to stop the car before he could recover from his laughing fit. he gasped when he'd calmed down enough to talk. No, of course not. The gossip around that place is the best, though. Without even trying, I find out who's seduced or been seduced by their muse, who's the most vicious flamer, what the latest trends are. That's how I found out about your anti-Xavier cause.  
  
But writers' personal lives shouldn't be anyone's business.  
  
Your muse told me that part, he said simply. Anyway, what changed your mind?  
  
About them? I thought back. I needed a heavy dose of normalcy. Oh, I know that they're testing me. They're going to see if I can go a whole evening without talking about you-know-what. And I'm going to do just that. You can come along and be my witness, if you'd like.  
  
I can't.  
  
Why not? I asked. Is it 'cause you work for a Subreality agency and would implode if you spend too much time in the real world?  
  
We can spend as much time there as we want. I grew up there, but I was one of those kids who was always off in another world. My parents thought I was a nutcase. I wrote fan fiction for a little while, and when Mandril and Penelope were scouting for new agents, I was so there.  
  
And I bet you're too busy solving crises between authors and their muses to do anything fun, I guessed.  
  
You're pretty much the first one I've helped.  
  
So why can't you come? Pondering the question of why I was suddenly so eager to spend more time with him served as an adequate distraction from thinking about what would happen when I faced Xavier.  
  
Now his face was as bright a red as his hair was yellow. I can't skate. I always fall down. Long pause. Are you sure you want to do this, Neva?  
  
  
  
  
  
Of course.  
  
He lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and raised his eyebrows.   
  
I found myself smiling. Strictly off the record?  
  
  
  
Then, no, I said. Maybe I should be.  
  
Only you know for sure. You want me to come with you? You know, for moral support?  
  
There are some things a writer's got to do alone. I'm not even sure I'll be allowed into His Hoverosity's exalted presence.  
  
He looked relieved, and I had an idea that even if I wasn't scared to talk to Xavier, Clancy probably was. _That_ sounds more like the Neva who requested my services. And they will listen, even if you have to tell the whole story to make them.  
  
I hope that won't be necessary, I said, but it was only half true. I had no intention of telling the X-Men the whole story. It was none of their business. But letting my fellow writers know... now _that_ was another thing altogether...   
  
**  
  
Who goes there? the two-way speaker box demanded.  
  
Clancy Nicholson, from the muse agency, and one of my clients.  
  
Before I could tell him to let me do the talking, the voice, which I recognized as Scott's, asked, What's Iceman done _this_ time?  
  
It's not about him, I said, leaning over. I could feel Clancy breathing in my ear. He smelled like nachos. _Don't get distracted,_ I instructed myself. It's about Xavier.  
  
There was a very long silence. Are you his writer?  
  
My companion and I exchanged a glance. Something like that.  
  
Scott seemed to understand (a first, in my opinion.) Okay, proceed.  
  
Thank you. I was tempted to add, Visor Boy, but decided against it.  
  
**  
  
Although a great deal of my stories took place in the X-Men mansion, this was, of course, the first time I myself had seen the inside of it. I sat in a chair in the elaborate front sitting room, not staring at my feet this time. I was Phoebe after Todd had spurned her, Kitty making a decision under pressure to stay with the one she loved, Storm doing the unthinkable and telling Xavier that he had crossed the line. There had been a little bit of my anger in each of those scenes, even a little bit of my fear. That fear was still there, despite what I had told Clancy, but at the moment, it was the least of my emotions. Because all of my heroines (whether they were my characters or not) had known that they had something to say. And so did I. It was why I had become a writer in the first place.  
  
Before I could say anything, Xavier suddenly closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his forehead, and I shrank back in the chair, clutching handfuls of my skirt, preparing for the worst and thinking how stupid I had been...  
  
When nothing happened (at least that I knew of), and his face had returned to normal, I asked shakily, What'd you just do?  
  
I told Bobby and Jubilee to _please_ stop listening outside the door, he replied. Neva, why have you come here?  
  
You don't know? I shot back, making a futile attempt not to sound a) snide, or 2) bitter.  
  
I think that you would push me out the window if I entered your mind at this point.  
  
I think you're probably right about that, if nothing else. I took a deep breath and began, It's been a couple of weeks since... you know. I haven't felt like writing. I haven't even felt like hanging out with my Subreality friends, because without my stories, I feel like even more of an outcast than I did before.  
  
And it didn't occur to you to request a new muse?  
  
I think you're the fourth or fifth person -- and I use the term loosely -- to suggest that. It makes sense, right?  
  
Do you expect me to answer that? he came right back.  
  
Damn him. Well, I think it does.  
  
So do I. There are plenty of fictives who would be happy to assist in your cause.  
  
Screw the cause, I said vehemently. No, I mean, I'm still going to write... the way I've been writing, and I know that it would be better if I had someone who felt the same way I do, but it sucks to have a bunch of people who act like you showed them the light... I trailed off. No offense.  
  
Now he was actually smiling. You are aware that I could be controlling your mind at this very moment.  
  
I shivered. Well, yes. Are you?  
  
  
  
Then I believe you. I trust you.  
  
Is that so?  
  
Yeah, it's so. I cranked out a laugh. I guess that doesn't mean a lot to you. I mean, everyone who you advise ends up trusting you. It's, like, a rule.  
  
He gave me his trademark intense stare. All of the mutants who have come here... they put their faith in me because they have nowhere else to go. They have no choice. You do have a choice... and you chose to trust me. That means a great deal. And it is your choice -- I have never tampered with your mind again, and I never will. You've made your opinion of that... rather clear, not realizing that I am as human as you are and capable of making mistakes.  
  
At least you knew it was a mistake. That's what convinced me.   
  
That's all?  
  
That and the fact that most of the characters in my stories can't seem to deal after someone's messed with their heads. I don't want to be one of those people. And I don't want this to turn out like you and Mag-not-so-neato, either. But besides all that, I don't want a different muse. I want you. Now I was the one to pause. Isn't lightning supposed to strike or something?  
  
I have no idea. But I did hope that we could continue in spite of what happened, he admitted.  
  
I'm not doing this because you want me to, I said, irritated. Even though I'm glad you do. This is my choice. I think I've finally learned to recognize that.  
  
So do I, Xavier told me. Shall I come over later, so we could continue your _True Colors_ project?  
  
I suggested. I have to spend some time in the real world tonight.  
  
**  
  
So you're cool? Clancy asked me as we drove back toward my reality.  
  
Beyond cool, I replied. I think it's going to take a little bit of adjusting to my normal' self before I can go skating tonight.  
  
Maybe I'll see you there.  
  
Aren't you afraid of falling?  
  
He had his eyes on the road and couldn't look at me, for which I was sure he was grateful. I think it's already a little too late for that.  
  
_Not to mention an agency employee with a more-than-professional interest in you..._ Just when I thought that things couldn't get any weirder. But despite the when in Rome rule, I felt like I could fly. I had stood up to a couple of close-minded agency drones, conquered a small part of my fear, and learned to forgive. And I was primed to continue one of the best things that had ever happened to me. Not bad for one afternoon.   
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
